Every Noisy Inch
by Diebin
Summary: MOVIEVERSE: Sequel to 'I Don't Approve'. All is not exactly as it seems . . .


Title: Every Noisy Inch  
Author: Diebin  
E-Mail: diebin@diebin.com  
Rating: R for innuendo, language, themes, and Nancy's SexTalk(tm)  
Sequel to: "I Don't Approve" http://www.diebin.com/fic/idontapprove.html  
Summery: Sequel to "I Don't Approve". Just what /are/ Logan and Marie doing when they're making all those noises?  
Archive: If I've said yes before, I'll say yes again. If I haven't--ask me. I'm easy.  
Disclaimer: Marvel and Fox. Bah Humbug. 

SPECIAL NOTE: Several phrases in here were taken from "Nancy's Book of Things Rogue and Logan Should Scream in Bed" The following quotes I attribute to her, with due thanks: "Oooh, Logan--growl for me. C'mon, big man--growl!" "You're hairy like an animal!" and "Oooh, Logan--make me, ohhh, make me a WOMAN Logan!" This story would not be what it is without her. It was two pages long when she got ahold of it--now look at it. GO NANCY! :) 

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~ 

It was innocent at first. After I figured out how well Marie could feel my mouth through a smooth silk sheet, I couldn't help but do it over and over, driving sounds from her lips that she'd never made before. It was addictive, listening to those sounds that she was making for me alone. 

It was only after the third time that I realized Scott could hear us. 

He wasn't real obvious about it. But the appraising looks he'd give me every time I so much as set foot out of my room made me suspect . . . and then there was the time when I wandered out into the hallway to get Marie a drink after a particuarly . . . noisy . . . incident--and he was standing there staring at our door and glaring. 

It was two in the morning, so I figured he wasn't just passing by. 

It started to be a game after that. Rogue was sitting around looking over her homework for her 'attend from home' college one day when she heard the door slam shut next door, and Scott's angry voice complaining about something. 

She looked at me with this strange little smile I couldn't even decipher, and then threw back her head and groaned, "Oh, Logan!" 

I blinked. Homework usually doesn't get her quite that worked up. 

She stood up from her chair and stalked towards the bed, stopping at the foot with her hands on her hips. "Logan, oh /God/ Logan . . ." 

To be honest--right then I didn't have any clue what she was doing. If this was some new form of pick-up line, I really wanted to know where she was getting it from. 

"LOGAN! YES!" 

I propped myself up on my elbow and tried to give her a serious glare--the kind that is supposed to make quell all that anxious bubbly young woman energy. 

Instead she bounced onto the bed and stood up, balancing carefully as she planted her feet on either sides of my legs. "Oh, Logan--that's it. Right there Logan, right . . . THERE!" 

And she started jumping, the little fool. 

With the bed a rattling and banging into the wall--the wall that bordered onto Scott's room--I suddenly figured out exactly what she was trying to do. 

She was trying to get me castrated, apparently. Scotty boy was /not/ going to like this. 

"Harder, Faster, Harder, Faster!" she chanted, still bouncing. "Oooh, Logan, you're so gooood." 

"Marie--" She was seriously going to get me killed. But then again--I wasn't exactly immune to the site of her bouncing around like that. She was just wearing a tight little t-shirt and her gloves . . . and the sight of her jumping up and down was just enough to distract me into my downfall. 

She plopped down to the bed suddenly, her knees on either side of my body as she sat on my stomach. Crossing her arms over her chest she stared down at me with a wide grin before tossing her hair back and waving her head around. "Oooh, Logan--growl for me. C'mon, big man--growl!" 

I'm not sure if it was the way she was bouncing, the way she was sitting, or the way all that hair was flying around and distracting the hell out of me--but the chuckle that bubbled out turned into a ragged growl as she plopped her hands down on my shoulders and gave me a nice flash of cleavage. 

The minute that growl left my lips--all hell broke loose. Marie was tossing about and screaming crazy things--though where, "You're hairy like an animal!" and "Oooh, Logan--make me, ohhh, make me a WOMAN Logan!" came from . . . I really didn't want to know. 

And then she started purring like a cat. I nearly swallowed my tongue trying not to laugh, but she just grinned and before I knew it, she'd pulled me right into the show. I grunted and groaned a few times, and growled on command like any well-trained toy . . . 

Funny thing is--after a while of making all those noises, we both kinda trailed off into actually doing the stuff to /cause/ the noises . . . and we didn't really make them anymore. We're usually a lot more quiet than that. Probably has to do with all the concentration that goes into making love to someone whose skin you can't really touch. 

Didn't matter much though--we'd done the damage. The look Scott gave us the next day was priceless. It was so priceless that when Marie was sitting brushing her hair, staring out the window, I sprawled out on our bed and started my own little show. 

Okay, so I'm not as good at improvising random things to call out . . . but I'm really good at growling. 

There's a fine art to growling. Most men will never get a real growl off in their entire pathetic lives--but I happen to be the leading expert on it in this day and age. And it's a nice thing to be able to do--since I've never seen anything melt a woman faster. 

A real growl starts deep in the chest and rumbles up. If you growl when you've got someone pressed against you, they should be able to feel it. Feeling the way it rumbles is part of a growl--but if you're really good at it you can get 'em from across the room, just by hearing it. 

Worked pretty well on Marie if I do say so myself. She got this wide eyed look on her face and started gettin' a little flushed. And since I can hear that sort of thing, I could tell her heart was startin' to pound and her breathing was a little off. 

She looked eyes with me and started to whimper. I growled a little louder, and she tilted her head back and let out a low moan. "Please, Logan--" 

I wasn't too sure if she was saying it for play or for real--but the look in her eyes when she tilted her head back down said it all. 

I really needed to start growling more if this was the affect it had on her. 

It was different than the night before. Before it was all play and absurd and joking--but now it was something else. All this noise was actually starting to get kind of . . . well . . . exciting. 

Marie got up and wandered across the room, her eyes never leaving mine, and next thing I knew we were wrapped up around each other, and hands were everywhere and I was growling and she was purring and begging and getting louder by the second--and so was I, damn it. 

Didn't care much though, when her gloved hands started running along my skin, and I felt her lips through my shirt just below my neck . . . and then there were clothes flying all over the place and touching and moaning and screaming and begging and purring . . . 

I don't think I've ever made so much noise in my life, to tell you the truth. God it was good though--and from the dazed look in Marie's eyes afterwards, I don't think she'd disagree with me there. 

The next day, I was really glad Scott wore glasses. I think he woulda shot me half way down the hallway with the glare he was giving me, all powers aside. 

Jean laughed at me when she saw me, and I winked. But from then on out, the less we were touching each other, the more noisy Marie and I got--and half the time those noisy little sessions led to even more noisy post-sessions . . . I'm really surprised that people in other wings didn't start complaining, to tell you the truth. 

I don't think anyone's ever had a healthier sex life though. 

Sometimes we'd sit around and have contests, just for the hell of it. I'm not quite sure what the judging standards were, but whoever came up with the most creative noises always got the same prize--a repeat performance with a little . . . partner encouragement, so to speak. 

Then there was the night when we actually weren't playing games with Scott's head . . . but I guess we were kinda used to gettin' loud because that's what we did. Got a little too loud, I guess, and the next thing I knew a book hit the wall right next to my head. 

First I was pissed. Instincts don't die easy, and having someone . . . interrupt . . . my entertainment is not something I take lightly. I was snarling at the wall and all ready to march in there and give Cyke a piece of my mind . . . 

And Marie started giggling 

Kind of strange little bed games we like to play, but then--whoever said bed games were normal when the ones playing them are a woman who kills with her skin and a man with foot long metal claws. 

It's great being mutant. 

Jean knows all about our little game, and I think she's in on it with us, though she'd never admit it. She grins at me whenever she sees me, and winks at Rogue, and sometimes, when she'd chiding Scott for being so uptight, she raises her voice enough so we can hear her. 

Sometimes I pause and look at myself, curled up on a bed with a girl I can't really touch in my arms, giggling like I was twelve years old over a stupid joke that shouldn't even amuse me. I have to shake my head--a few years ago I wouldn't be caught dead like this, and now I can't imagine anything else. 

It's our little secret though. Me and Marie and Scott and Jean . . . I've never said anything, but I know they won't ever out me. Marie loves my reputation as a growling, ruthless hard-ass. It just gives her even /more/ of a reputation . . . the woman who tamed the beast. 

Jean just thinks we're cute. I almost hit her the first time when she said it . . . but that twinkle in her eye is too damn endearing. 

I still don't know why Scott hasn't told everyone he sees that I'm a big pathetic softie now. Maybe he's just afraid Jean'll kick 'im outta bed if he pisses her off. 

So Marie and I spend our evenings cuddling up, and our nights annoying the hell outta Scotty boy, because really . . . I have to keep my hand in somehow. And Marie would kick /me/ outta bed if I did it by trying to flirt with Jean. 

Like I need to anyway, now that I've got Rogue. Every noisy inch of her. 

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~ 


End file.
